


Maybe fate wasn't kind to you (but at least I can be)

by Floople_Doople



Series: I will face the Goddess and walk backwards into hell (if it means I get to protect you) [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: :))))))), AU where Miklan wasn't a jackass, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Author Is Sleep Deprived, CANON CAN GO PERISH, Child Abuse, Gen, Glenn's here enough that I can tag him, Gotta tag that, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Margrave Gautier's A+ Parenting, Sylvain Jose Gautier Needs A Hug, Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, ah yes sarcasm, can't say the same for Felix sorry buddy, idk im tired, oh i kinda forgot ingrid and dimitri existed woops SORRY GUYS, oh yeah, ssomeone get these kids therapy, this tag doesnt exist yet so im gonna make it, uhhhh what do you call writing from the pov of a ten year old, uhhhhhhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 01:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21028037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Floople_Doople/pseuds/Floople_Doople
Summary: Sylvain wasn't stupid. Maybe he wasn't the smartest person ever, but he could at least piece together some things.And he pieced together that there was something off about his family.Or: Where Sylvain has seen Miklan suffer enough (and finally does something about it)





	Maybe fate wasn't kind to you (but at least I can be)

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT WHAT H A P P E N E D

Sylvain was not stupid. Maybe he wasn’t the smartest person ever, but he wasn’t an idiot. Even if he didn’t know everything, he could still piece together what was going on. 

And he pieced together that something...wasn’t really right with his family.

Maybe that’s not the right way to say it. Sylvain knew that there was something inherently  _ different _ between how he was treated versus how Miklan was treated by their parents. And it really wasn’t a good difference. Not at all.

Even when he was younger (than he is now, at least - Miklan still ruffled his hair and called him little even though  _ he’s already ten years old, Miklan, I’m not that little-! _ ), Sylvain always figured that something was off. Sure, he was treated well - always praised when he did well, maybe scolded if he messed up, and that was normal enough.

That’s not what usually happened for Miklan.

Miklan never got scolded; though that wasn’t because he never got in trouble. In fact, Miklan seemed to get in trouble a lot more often than Sylvain did. Usually for stuff that Sylvain could get away with no problem, too!

But when Miklan got in trouble, it never ended well. Sylvain was always ushered out of the room when Miklan was about to get a  _ lecture _ , as Father called them. Of course, just because he was ushered out of the room, that didn’t mean he couldn’t sneak back towards the room to listen in.

What he heard always made his blood run cold.

Yelling. Always, always yelling. The words changed a bit each time, but there was always a certain pattern to his words that Sylvain figured out. It always began with angry words about what Miklan had supposedly done wrong, before slowly shifting into even angrier words about Miklan’s lack of a Crest, and how worthless he was for it - and how, if he was to be useful at all, he’d be spending more time studying and practicing and doing all those stupid noble things so that he could  _ serve _ Sylvain.

As though Miklan were lesser than Sylvain, all because of his lack of a stupid Crest. 

Sylvain would always leave after that, his stomach churning too much to listen any longer. He’d go back to his room, practically having to force his limbs to move as he sat and waited for Father’s “lecture” to be over.

He always did go to Sylvain’s room eventually, once a lecture was over. It became an odd sort of routine between the two of them - after Father was finished, Miklan would make his way to Sylvain’s room, mostly for the latter to be able to confirm that he was okay.

Sylvain knew that he wasn’t. But he appreciated that Miklan tried anyway. Even if he struggled to hold back a wince whenever Sylvain hugged him too tightly.

Even if Sylvain hadn’t pieced together that something was wrong on his own, he still would have figured it out just by watching how Glenn interacted with his brother. When they went to go visit, or vice versa, Sylvain would always watch as Glenn looked over Miklan, seemingly searching for something before he realized that Sylvain was watching at all. Then he’d usher Miklan away, telling him and Felix to, “Go have fun! I gotta have a quick chat with your big brother.”

Sylvain never listened.

(“I keep telling you Miklan, this isn’t right!” Sylvain overheard Glenn say, listening through the door as Felix held onto his arm. Felix opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it when Sylvain held a finger to his lips in a “shush” motion. “You can - no, you  _ have _ to leave!”

“I can’t.”

“And why not?”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - I can’t leave. Not when Sylvain would be stuck here, with them. I...I can’t even think about leaving him behind.”

The conversation always ended there.)

Sylvain also noticed how, when it was Felix and Glenn visiting them, Glenn would always keep Miklan away from their parents. Sylvain guessed he was trying to be subtle about it, but Glenn was never subtle about anything. He was also terrible about staying quiet about these things, if the heated glares he sent towards Father and Mother said anything. That was probably why Miklan didn’t tell him everything that happened, instead letting Glenn piece it together on his own.

He never told Sylvain everything, if anything, either. But he didn’t have to. Sylvain could figure it out for himself. Besides, it wasn’t like their parents were exactly secretive about the entire thing. Nor were they secretive about why it was that Sylvain was favored over Miklan. 

It was because of the stupid, stupid Crest. The idea - no, not idea, the  _ knowledge _ \- that the thing he’d been given by chance was what had been making Miklan suffer for, for basically his whole life felt like it was burning him alive. 

“Miklan?” He began, one of the few moments they got alone. While both Father and Mother were out on a business trip that they didn’t want their children attending.

“...What is it Sylvain?” A concerned look on his face, getting down on one knee so that Sylvain didn’t have to stare up at him. “Is something wrong?”

“Is...is it because of my Crest that Father and Mother don’t like you?” Sylvain watched his brother recoil at that, a sick feeling settling in his stomach like a rock. “...please don’t lie to me.”

Miklan stayed silent for a moment. The sick feeling in Sylvain’s stomach only got worse.

“It is...isn’t it?”

Miklan’s silence - and adamant refusal to look Sylvain in the eyes - only confirmed Sylvain’s guess.

“Then I don’t want it.”

Miklan’s eyes widened at that, darting back to stare Sylvain directly in the eyes. “What-?”

“I don’t want it! I don’t want some stupid Crest if it means that Father and Mother are gonna treat you bad!” He nearly shouted, tears starting to burn at the corners of his eyes - and he was always teasing Felix for being a crybaby, if only he could see Sylvain now.

“You..You really shouldn’t say that Sylvain..” Miklan said quietly, his expression shifting into something really sad and...and something Sylvain wasn’t able to recognize. 

“But I don’t! Not at all! I-I-” He choked on a sob, the tears running down his face now as he tried to wipe them away. “You should have it! T-Take it, I don’t - I don’t deserve it!”

“W-Where-?” Miklan hadn’t been able to finish his question, because Sylvain kept going.

“I-I’m not - I’m not b-better than you! I-I’m worse! I’m a bad person, I’m worse t-than Mother and Father, b-because it’s because of m-me you’re getting treated badly!”

“Sylvain,  _ no _ -” Miklan’s voice cracked with emotion, and if Sylvain had been thinking clearly, he could have probably identified it. But he wasn’t, and because he wasn’t, he continued.

“Y-You should’ve - I don’t w-want it, d-don’t deserve it, not - not when you could b-be having a b-better life i-if I - if I just wasn’t _ born _ -!”

Before he could keep going in his half-hysterical rant, Miklan reached forward, wrapping his arms around Sylvain before pulling his little brother into a tight hug. Pressed against his chest, head nestled in the crook of his shoulder, Sylvain could feel how badly his brother was shaking. 

“Don’t…” Miklan stopped, a shuddery breath leaving him before he hugged Sylvain the tiniest bit tighter, one hand running through Sylvain’s hair. “Please, don’t ever, ever think like that. You shouldn’t be thinking like that at  _ all _ , and I’m so, so sorry t-that you  _ are _ -”

A strangled noise came from Miklan. 

“Please,” he whispered, still trembling, “don’t ever,  _ ever _ think like that. I can’t imagine a life without you, Sylvain. You’re my little brother, Crest or no Crest, and I love you so, so much - and nothing could ever change that. Not now, not ever. So  _ please _ \- don’t think that. ”

At that, Sylvain couldn’t stop himself. His heart felt ready to burst, and he broke into sobs, his hands holding onto the back of Miklan’s shirt as he cried and sobbed until his throat was hoarse. Miklan held him the entire time, never once letting go - one hand still going through Sylvian’s hair as the other rubbed his back in circles.

At last, when Sylvain’s sobs lessened to sniffles, and his eyes began to droop from the exhaustion of crying his heart out, Miklan picked him up and carried him to his room. He kept Sylvain cradled close to his chest, and despite the slightly awkward position, Sylvain found himself getting lulled to sleep by Miklan’s heartbeat. And to sleep he went, the exhaustion finally catching up to him.

When he woke up, he found Miklan sleeping beside him, like he used to when Sylvain was a lot littler - curled protectively around Sylvain, as if trying to shield him from something. Sylvain merely closed his eyes again, allowing himself to fall asleep once more.

\-------------------

Sylvain noticed a lot of things. Especially after that day, where he ended up breaking down in his brother’s arms. Even before then, he still noticed.

For one thing, he noticed how his parents always seemed to try to get  _ rid _ of Miklan.

Of course, he could never definitively say that they were. There was no real proof, no hard evidence, and the inevitable  _ he’s just a kid, how could he possibly know _ he’d get if he even tried. But he still knew. He knew, and he noticed, and it made his blood boil.

(Once, he hadn’t seen Miklan at all that day. He’d gotten worried, running around the manor, at first calling his name that gradually turned to desperate screaming. Finally he’d come across a well.

A well that he heard splashing from.

Sylvain was praised for saving his “clumsy brother who managed to fall into a well”, but he knew. He knew, and so did Miklan, who’d gotten sick afterwards due to being stuck there for who knows how long. Glenn and Felix had visited soon after, the former seething with rage when he realized what had happened.

Felix had asked Sylvain what happened as well. Sylvain had just told the truth.

“Some bad people attacked my brother and trapped him in a well. That’s why he’s sick.”)

Their parents seemed to believe that Sylvain was oblivious to everything - no doubt in part to the big smiles that Sylvain would always give them. If they bothered to try and get to know their son even a little, if they even tried to see past “Crest-bearing heir”, they would’ve known that those smiles were fake as could be. But of course they hadn’t, so of course they didn’t know.

(Another time, during the winter, his parents had taken Miklan on a trip that they left Sylvain behind for. When they came back, faked tears and faked horror, they said that they lost Miklan in the woods. Sylvain had screamed, screamed and cried and almost begged for them to go back looking for him. They said that they would in the morning.

Sylvain knew that they meant to leave him for dead. 

He waited by the doors that night, constantly walking through the manor to the different entrances and praying that Miklan would come through one of them. And eventually, he did, barely shivering and lips tinged blue, but still  _ alive _ \- Sylvain practically shoved the blanket he had been dragging around with him at his brother as he ran to go wake up one of the servants.

Come morning, Sylvain wasn’t surprised to see the disappointment in Father’s eyes as he looked at his eldest son, covered in several blankets with Sylvain curled up at his side. Sylvain knew what that disappointment meant, even if it was quickly hidden by false words of relief that Miklan was okay.

He wasn’t surprised. That didn’t mean he wasn’t upset about it.)

Sylvain tried to act out. Played dumb, acted like he didn’t know any better, if only so Miklan would look better to their parents by comparison. Judging by the looks Miklan would shoot him, it seemed that he already knew about Sylvain’s plans.

Of course, he never got more than a quick scolding - and it could hardly be called even that - whenever he did act out. And of course, Miklan was still treated like he was less than dirt. All because he didn’t have a stupid Crest. Sylvain would have gladly given his to Miklan, if he knew how. But, of course, the world wasn’t that simple.

And of course, the plan backfired horribly.

Sylvain had gone to Father’s office, recalling how the man had wanted to speak to him about...something. Truthfully, he couldn’t remember what the topic was, he just remembered that Father wanted to speak to him. So he eventually trudged his way to the man’s office, the reluctance clear with each step.

A reluctance that completely vanished when he heard a hard thud coming from the direction of said office.

His small steps of reluctance turned into long strides of haste, his eyes wide as he ran to the door, hand reaching up to grab the doorknob and wrenching it open. 

His heart skipped so many beats that Sylvain was mildly sure it stopped altogether. It took his mind a few moments to catch up. 

The first thing his mind processed was the fact that Father was not alone. The second thing was that Miklan was there as well, lying motionless on the floor. The third thing was that Father’s...no, Margrave Gautier’s hand was clenched into a fist, his face contorted into an ugly expression of hate.

The fourth thing was that all Sylvain could see was  _ red _ .

He rushed towards Miklan, practically dropping to his knees as his older brother groaned and began pushing himself off of the ground.

“S-Sylvain..?” Miklan began, his voice wracked with pain as he struggled not to wheeze for breath. “W-Why are…?”

Sylvain didn’t answer him.

“W-Why were you-?! How could you-?!” Sylvain’s voice was not intimidating, still with that squeakiness and timidness that came with being a child confronting a parent. Yet his tone was one of hatred, his eyes far darker than a normal child’s should ever be - although, when had he ever been a normal child?

To his credit. Margrave Gautier merely scoffed.

“I was merely teaching  _ Miklan _ here,” saying his brother’s name as though it belonged to a monster, “the importance of respecting your elders’ wishes.”

_ Since when did you deserve any respect?!  _ Sylvain wanted to say, but he settled for a hate-filled glare. He couldn’t deny the sick satisfaction he felt when the margrave actually shrank back at that, not expecting the amount of hate coming from his own son.

“Hmph. We will continue this later.” And with that the margrave left, shutting the door behind him.

They both waited until his footsteps had faded into the distance before either of them spoke. 

“I-I’m sorry you s-saw that, Sylvain,” Miklan said first, a humorless chuckle as he pushed himself into a sitting position. 

Sylvain shook his head furiously. “No! No apologizing! It wasn’t your fault, so no apologizing!”

Miklan opened his mouth, seemingly to apologize again, only to close it upon seeing the look on Sylvain’s face. They sat there in silence for a while, neither of them looking at each other.

Faintly, Sylvain remembered the words that Glenn always spoke to Miklan, whenever he thought that they were alone.

“...Miklan?”

“Yes?”

Sylvain stared at Miklan, determination clear in his expression.

“Let’s run away.”

Miklan recoiled at first, eyes widening when Sylvain spoke. But after a moment, he closed his eyes, a small smile spreading across his face as he chuckled.

“..Alright. Let’s run away.”

**Author's Note:**

> this whole thing was speed written over the course of 2-3 days mostly at night and it definitely shows


End file.
